Blurred Cessation
by Archaeobee
Summary: Christine's POV as she leaves Erik for the last time, reflecting on her familiarity with death. Oneshot, ALW, EC RC.


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_**Blurred Cessation**_

_By Dream Descends_

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Death; Christine Daaé was no stranger to it. In truth, it seemed to have stalked her over the years, like a jealous ex-lover determined to have revenge. She could feel its cold grip cling to her, as dew would cling to flowers in the early morning. It cast a veil over her that lured any who befriended her into its sinister folds.

First, her mother, the very woman to give her life, had fallen before it. Christine had been too young to understand, too young to mourn.

Then, her father, who had raised her and whom she cherished above all others, became a casualty as well. That was when she had first begun to wonder, to entertain the idea that perhaps it was her doing. Why did everything she loved die? She obeyed her father, she prayed, she had faith in God—why did he strip her of all that she had?

Now as she made her solemn advance into _life_—something that she had been promised would keep her safe, something she felt inexplicably foreign to—death struck in the most bizarre and yet palpable manner.

The dress that had once been a stunning depiction of purity was reduced to a sopping mess, clinging uncomfortably as it slid along her limbs. The ice-cold water of the subterranean lake raised goose bumps on her flesh, drips of the freezing liquid slipping between every crevice of her skin. The brocaded skirt hung heavily over her hips, keeping her balanced as the slim gondola skimmed the lake's surface.

She gazed back with a terrible fascination at the world she was leaving behind. Candles flickered temptingly; shadows seemed to stretch out and reach for her, offering secure embraces. Crimson and gold came together in regal, treacherous beauty; and in the center of it all stood the pinnacle that she could either tumble over, or step away from to safety.

Erik's face was a legend within itself, not only scarred unimaginably but the precise expression of unsurpassed human suffering. What tales could be extracted from each line and blemish that marked his face were unimaginable to even the most experienced storyteller. His eyes stared back at her with unwavering consistency, the emotions that swarmed their depths swelling and overflowing in embittered tears. A tormented acceptance of fate was the only description that could began to describe the contortion of his features.

It was this overwhelming figure that the black cloud of Death hovered precariously over—and though Christine wanted to call out and warn him, she somehow entrusted Death, her age-old companion, with the responsibility to choose justly. It could no longer be in her hands that this man's future would be decided—it was God's work, and only he had the power to announce the verdict.

It still awed her that this man—this creature of power and seduction—possessed a weakness: her. The love that still shone brightly in his every movement had both thrilled and astonished her, sensations that eventually evolved into utmost terror and despair. Now, she could only wonder how she, a small inconsequential being, a mere imperfect mortal, could subdue such a man.

As the first fresh breath of her new future filled her lungs, she licked her lips to taste the saltiness of her own crying. Searing hot guilt burned across her chest, branding her.

Death paused, waiting. Then the man moved away from its shadow, and stepped beyond the borders of uncertainty. He would live—but there is always a victim when Death is released.

A faint flicker, a chasm of darkness, seemed to glimmer in the air where Erik had just been standing. It swirled and writhed, glowing a rich red, then a luxurious purple, and then a mysterious grey. It seemed to disappear if Christine moved her head, dipping in and out of existence. She speculated as to whether it was really there at all.

Then, Death swooped down and consumed the orb, coiling around it like a snake, until both Death and its prey crackled into oblivion.

Christine closed her eyes, understanding, as her lips delicately mouthed the words that Erik screamed for the world to hear.

_It's over now, the music of the night._

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_**Fin**_

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**Author's Note: **Something I got down after watching the ending of the film several times over, in between cramming for french and math.


End file.
